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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579549">delivery!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcosmo/pseuds/darkcosmo'>darkcosmo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Post-Time Skip, drinking mention i guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:36:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcosmo/pseuds/darkcosmo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Delivery from the pretty redhead!”<br/>Hubert and Lysithea reach for the folded piece of paper, simultaneously.<br/>Lysithea clears her throat, her cheeks going pink, “It’s for me.”<br/>“Improbable,” Hubert says immediately, “Given the… description, it is obviously meant for me.”</p><p>OR:</p><p>Balthus is entrusted with delivering a love note, but there's a slight technical difficulty... he forgot both recipient AND sender.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annette Fantine Dominic/Lysithea von Ordelia, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>340</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>delivery!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>—</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Balthus liked to do odd jobs around the Monastery to earn some coin.</p><p>Tensions ran high, money was tight with the war and all, and Balthus had become a frequent visitor of the tavern down in Abyss after particularly hard battles, so his income had started to run dangerously low.</p><p>So, odd jobs it was.</p><p>The gigs he picked up varied. They could range from taking over Hilda’s chores for the week, or to serving as the burly bodyguard to Ana’s shady dealings, stuff like that. He was also not above taking up other less grueling tasks.  </p><p>Just last night, while wallowing in his own misery at a table in said tavern, a lovestruck soul had approached him with a request: deliver a folded note to the object of their affections, tomorrow, 1PM, war council room.</p><p>As Balthus had struggled to keep the contents of his stomach down, his client had rambled about random things they liked about this person. They’d paid in advance, so he’d nodded his head, the willing listener to their rosy speech that went on and on for several minutes, until they were dragged away.</p><p>To be honest, the whole encounter was a little blurry, the details a little smudged.</p><p>Actually, he remembered next to nothing.</p><p>The next morning –actually, <em>fuck</em>, it was well past noon– he wakes up with a splitting headache and dried drool on his cheek, with everything coming back to him in fragmented, incomplete flashes. The note was still safely tucked in his jacket pocket, unopened, but the delivery time was upon him.</p><p>He had a time, he had a place… he just did not have a recipient, and he wasn’t remotely sure of the sender, but <em>details, details</em>. Before his traitorous brain can forget anything else, he finds a relatively clean napkin and starts jotting down all he can remember from last night, which… isn’t much.  </p><p>The King of Grappling rushes out of his room and hurries towards the second floor, plucking breakfast from a hanging tree of fruit as he makes grand strides to the war council room.</p><p>It’s easy to finish his apple in two bites, toss the core, and make his entrance, just as the delivery time comes around. He was anything if not very professional.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, he was interrupting. The carefully arranged tables are not filled to capacity, with just five people, but all of their big old eyes turn to look at him when his massive frame squeezes through the door.</p><p>He stands there, mouth open like an idiot, and the reality that he has no idea what he was doing here is dawning on him scarily fast.</p><p>“Balthus? Did something happen?” Lysithea asks. She smiles with her eyes, but her face shows mostly confusion. Beside her, Felix and Linhardt look at him with disinterest, and Dorothea seems to be the only one amused at the intrusion.</p><p>“Von Albrecht,” Hubert’s brusque tone is not nearly as cordial, “This better be important.”</p><p>“Actually, it is very important,” he informs him, and pulls out his entrusted document, which thankfully didn’t get crumpled on the journey. He raises it above his head like it’s a prize, “One of you <em>lucky people</em> has a <em>special someone </em>out there that’s absolutely <em>smitten</em> with you, and they trusted me to bring this,” he lowers his arm back down and adds, “I am very reliable.” He was in a room with potential clients, after all.</p><p>He hoped his statement was broad and vague enough that one of them would step forward and claim the note, but to his mortification, none of them move. They’re <em>waiting </em>for him to single out the recipient, which was…not ideal.</p><p>“I shall now… hand this over,” he grunts and nods, trying to look like he knows what he's doing, and praying they can’t see the growing panic on his face. From the stony looks he's met with, it isn’t working too good.</p><p>His legs feel like they’re weighed down with sand, but he puts one foot in front of the other until he makes it to the table, towering between Hubert and Lysithea. The heavy silence was starting to become a little stifling, and he holds the note close to his chest.</p><p>One thing –scratch that, the <em>only thing</em>–  that seemed to be ingrained in his brain, had been the fiery hue on the head of his employer, so he hopes for the best and says in a cheery tone:</p><p>“Delivery from the pretty redhead!”</p><p>Hubert and Lysithea reach for the folded piece of paper, simultaneously.</p><p>If looks could kill, the greatest dark mages of their army would have offed each other right then and there. After a couple of seconds that feel like minutes, that begin to bleed into awkwardness, both gloved hands are slowly lowered, right along with the corners of Balthus’ lips.</p><p>Lysithea clears her throat, her cheeks going pink, “It’s for me.”</p><p>“Improbable,” Hubert says immediately, “Given the… description, it is obviously meant for me.”</p><p>Their heads jerk in unison, right in his direction. Balthus squirms under their sharp gaze, “Er, sorry, pals… when I received this request, I was… ever-so-slightly tipsy. Details are fuzzy.”</p><p>“You were drunk,” Lysithea deadpans.</p><p>Balthus snaps his fingers and points down at her, “You would be correct, little lady. But not to fear! I wrote down some crucial details of everything I could remember.”</p><p>“A gender, a face? A <em>name</em>?” Hubert prompts, and from the icy look he gives him, he probably already deduced that Balthus’ information is kind of severely limited.</p><p>“N-No? Their enamored words stuck with me more than such… uh, trivial things,” all the King of Grappling can offer is a sheepish smile.</p><p>“Do you know what <em>trivial</em> means? How can you hold such little regard for the <em>identity </em>of the person who hired you?” Edelgard’s right-hand man looks unimpressed as ever.</p><p>With his free hand, Balthus fumbles for the napkin where he had hastily scribbled everything he could remember about the mystery sender. He holds it up to his face and mumbles, “Says here it’s for the cutest, deadliest mage.”</p><p>He peers over the paper at his audience, and it’s mostly a mixed response.</p><p>Lysithea’s face is now on fire, and even heat seems to be crawling up Hubert’s pale neck. Dorothea cackles in the background, and the Fraldarius boy has his eyes firmly fixed on the mantelpiece. Linhardt seems to be taking advantage of the respite from their meeting and is face-down, quietly snoring.</p><p>Balthus is starting to sweat.</p><p>“Oh, no! What a troublesome situation,” Dorothea looks positively gleeful, as she gestures between her two friends, “On the one hand, poor whipped Hubie here thinks it’s from the Prime Minister… and Lys, um, you think it’s from Leonie, or…?”</p><p>After a few tense seconds, the Ordelia heir bites out, “Annette.” She starts blushing even more furiously if at all possible when she tries to elaborate, “It’s from Annette. We’re… she’s my…”</p><p>“Aww! Cuties!” Dorothea interrupts, “Oh, that settles it, I’m sold! The note is for Lysithea.”</p><p>So Lysithea was seeing a former Blue Lion? Huh, that was news. He’d often seen them studying together late at night in the library five years ago, during their school days. Loads of nerdy business.</p><p><em>Oh</em>, now that he gave it a little more thought, he <em>had </em>seen the Faerghian singing softly to Lysithea while out on a job for Yuri, under the stars, with the Ordelia girl’s head on her lap… yeah, they seemed like good gal pals!</p><p>“Not so fast. I’m inclined to believe the note to be from Ferdinand,” Linhardt’s muffled voice surprises everyone, “He’s corny enough to utter the combination of words <em>cutest, deadliest mage</em>.”</p><p>The Enbarr singer taps a finger to her chin, “Annette’s kind of a dork, too,” Dorothea says, and upon being leveled with Lysithea’s glare, quickly amends, “and I mean that in the sense that she’s absolutely adorable and it’s all part of her charm! Like, have you heard the hit-song <em>creepity creep</em>?”</p><p>An intellectual discussion between Dorothea and Linhardt ensues, about whether the song creepity creep is overrated, and Lysithea and Hubert go back to staring at one another with an intensity that makes even a big guy like him uncomfortable, like they can force the other to be wrong by sheer willpower.</p><p>“I have a tea date with Annette today,” Lysithea says, eyeing the piece of paper like she’s convinced it’s the invitation to said event.</p><p>“What a coincidence. The same holds true for me,” Hubert retorts.</p><p>“You don’t even <em>like </em>tea.”</p><p>“He has tea, I have coffee. Contrary to what you may think, other drinks may be consumed during so-called <em>tea time</em>.”</p><p>Lysithea ignores him, “Yesterday, she said she would let me know the details sometime before three. She knows we’re friends, Balthus, that’s why she got you to deliver it. It makes the most sense.”</p><p>“Your relationship to the deliveryman is irrelevant,” Hubert waves a dismissive hand, “Von Aegir has been busy enough handling Her Majesty’s logistics that it would not be unreasonable to assume he would send me messages through other means.”</p><p>Felix rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath about missing out on training time with their nonsense, but Balthus can tell he’s quite invested in the ridiculous conversation around him from the rest of his body language.</p><p>Linhardt slowly sits up and laces his fingers together under his chin, “Do we know if Ms. Dominic was present at the Abyss last night?” at Lysithea’s affirmative nod, he turns to Hubert, “And where, pray tell, was our beacon of nobility and grace?”</p><p>Dorothea hides a snort behind her hand, and Hubert nods gravely, “I know for a fact he was at the tavern, if his horrid breath was any indication.”</p><p>“Annette was there too,” Lysithea quips, “She goes down to sing on Tuesdays. Dorothea and Manuela can confirm.”</p><p>Felix’s amber eyes pin the King of Grappling with a disdainful look, “Why were you getting plastered on a <em>Tuesday</em> night?”</p><p>“Anyway!” Balthus says loudly, “I think I wrote down something else. Should clear things up. One sec.”</p><p>He flips the napkin over, and below a suspicious grease-like stain he voices another clue, “Someone… it’s someone who scowls a lot! Yeah, they said it was endearing.”</p><p>He looks up and grins, proud to provide another piece of the puzzle of his own making, but he’s met with a collective groan that wipes it right off his face.</p><p>Linhardt’s sigh is heavy and exasperated, “Well, I am stumped. Could be either one of them.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Cute mages that tend to scowl a lot, dating redheads…” Dorothea chews on her bottom lip, “Yikes! Now I’m not so sure. Can’t you think of literally anything else, Baltie?”</p><p>He wracks his brain, thinks <em>real </em>hard, but he can’t even remember the voice, let alone a face. It’s like any information that could be useful has been deliberately censored by his brain to make him look bad. Years later, and he still wasn’t too familiar with the names or faces of surface dwellers he wasn’t close with. It was hard stuff!</p><p>“They… ah! They’re also friends with Hilda!” Balthus puffs out his chest with pride. It’s... not the person he was supposed to be recalling, but it was <em>something</em>. “I remember she dragged them away from my table last night. Looked to be on friendly terms.”</p><p>“That is beyond useless,” Hubert’s sneer promptly deflates him, “Ferdinand and Annette are on equal good terms with Ms. Goneril. And I would know– I have a file on everyone.”</p><p>Thinking it to be in his best interest, he chooses not to comment. The Minister of the Imperial Household leans back, arms folded over his scrawny chest, voice dripping with sarcasm, “What will it be next? Will you tell us that they had two eyes and a nose?”</p><p>“Uh, they did, in fact, have those. At least I’m pretty sure. Oh!” Balthus bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, “They paid premium, so I’m sure they are a noble!”</p><p>Lysithea pinches the bridge of her nose as she says between gritted teeth, “They’re BOTH nobles.”</p><p>“This premium service of yours is very lacking,” Hubert adds, his one green eye narrowed in annoyance, “I would demand my money back.”</p><p>The King of Grappling shoves an accusatory finger right near Hubert’s chest, “No refunds, no exchanges! That’s them rules.”</p><p>Before he can get Miasma’d into another dimension for invading the dangerous man’s personal space, usually-quiet Felix suddenly snaps with perfect logic:</p><p>“Why don’t you just read the stupid note?”</p><p>Balthus balks, “W-What? And breach client confidentiality? I don’t think so, pal!”</p><p>“If it’s not sealed with wax, I think it’s fair game,” Linhardt muses, “Everyone in agreement say <em>aye</em>.”</p><p>“What?! You can’t!”</p><p>But the response is overwhelming, and he’s overruled. Every single hand on the table goes up, and a perfect chorus of “<em>aye</em>” makes him feel even more incompetent and undermined than he already felt. The note was just a folded piece of paper, no wax seal to be found, no magical charms to keep it secret. He’d delivered a few of those between Edelgard and Byleth to know.</p><p>As per the rules established by the future Minister of the Interior, he was outta luck.</p><p>“Fine, fine!” he unceremoniously unfolds the note, reads it once, then twice to make sure, and thrusts it under Felix’s nose, “Here. Tips are welcome, but not necessary.”</p><p>He can see the gears turning in everyone’s head, the dots slowly connecting, the few clues he had provided being slowly woven together. With no tip in sight, he slowly backs away before the table erupts into total chaos.</p><p>“I would hardly call Felix a mage!”</p><p>“Right?! Who even says <em>that</em> about a Mortal Savant!”</p><p>“Well. They got the scowl thing right.”</p><p>“Can we collectively stop using the services of someone that doesn’t know who is sending the message, or who is supposed to receive it?”</p><p>“<em>Wait, Felix, you’re seeing Sylvain</em>?!”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i finally finished the DLC last night, and Balthus was ABSOLUTELY the MVP in that last fight, so i wanted to try writing something from his POV and sprinkle my shipping agenda while i did it  lol</p></blockquote></div></div>
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